Thursday, February 08, 2007

The Hit Charade

It's another chilly night outside, here, but on the other side of the world, grunts are humping it down debris-strewn streets. A slightly more uneven game of "Cat and Mouse" is underway, as modern vendettas are freely mixed with ancient ones. The pots race to achieve a rolling boil, before the juices evaporate.

Where is the race here? Is there a contest hidden here, somewhere?

Sure, there's always some iconic cause being chanted somewhere; The verses may vary a bit, but the chorus is inevitably devoid of substance. Ideologues and idiots readily strike up the band, but getting them to give up the baton has historically proven more difficult, even after the composition reveals its turgid familiarity to hardened fans.

As the pictures dull, and recollections of what was done to whom(and when) are squirreled away in private memories. Among the remains are a few shopworn notions: valor, honor, devotion to the cause, bravery, forming a discordant chorus of their own. Equal in measure, folly and hubris are mixed with misguided ambitions from diverse sources, yielding a miserable etude, familiar to anyone who's ever breathed air; hummed, at times; barked out in a stupefying roar, at others. People may possess these sterling qualities (isn't that the way the lyrics go?) in many forms. The problem is, the damned song doesn't prescribe nobility, forebearance, compassion, dignity, respect, or a host of other laudable traits. At least, not in any of the countless versions that I've been exposed to. Woeful in it's effect on listeners and performers alike, it's far worse for weary souls who attempt to change the words of the song, or to tune it out.